Dan's Diary
by mangachiaki
Summary: An angst-y Phan one shot; Without Dan, Phil has nothing, so he rereads the scribbled pages as if those words might convince him for even a moment that Dan is with him again...


Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!

_January 5th, 2010_

This is my final entry, so I want to say goodbye, not only to the various strangers who will claim kinship after my death, but to the pages of this diary.

The only way I could ever truly speak was through a cheap, discarded pen and this leather-bound book. It listened, unlike those few people who even put forth the mildest effort to hide their disgust for me, and the one person who I could honestly say I thought would keep me from suicide was the one who has convinced me of its necessity. Next, an explanation of my hatred for those who share my blood, who wil no doubt be unaffecteded by my opaquely cruel messages for them:

Firstly, to the woman who gave birth to this "monstrous being," for there's more to a mother than fertilized eggs, know that you are one of the most destructive people I've ever known. You tormented me throughout my childhood and well past it, as if every other person in my life weren't skilled enough at that already.

Next, for father, I would condemn you more but that would require having even the most basic knowledge of your personality; however, I know next to nothing about you, which ironically tells more about you than any lifelong companionship. I hope that your other children get more attention from you than I did, and perhaps can have a life in which they are knowledgable about things because they were explained by their father, rather than being called one of any number of names and having to look it up via the internet.

To the one person I loved in my pathetic, wretched existence... You know who you are, though you may later deny it. I know that I love you, not because of the happiness I feel when I see you (for I used to feel that way for my 'mother') but because even though you have hurt me time and time again, my shriveled heart cannot hate you. If right now, you were to tell me to smile, even though no doubt those muscles have atrophied, I would, just because you are the single person I know who can make me want to be happy again.

And now, to the people who are too insignificant to name but too significant to ignore, it was your constant belittling that wore me down. I'm honestly not sure if this will sadden you or not, as you seemed to always take joy in my suffering, but to the mindless sheep who blindly followed my tormentors (who hopefully now will feel the same disdain towards themselves that they felt for me), I hope you follow my example. If you were truly devoted enough to this cause, if you will not regret that you forced me to this, then I urge you to leave this hell to come with me to the next one, because God knows none of you deserve to trade in your knives for harps.

My life, if it can so be called, has been a steady march towards this. There may have been a time that I wished to live long enough to escape this prison of a town, but now I realize that even if I did, I would simply be transferring to another penitentiary. I can never be free from this universal human evil, just as I can never become the angel I used to dream I could. Like all humans, I am flawed; but unlike the others, I couldn't ignore my failures.

So, once again: goodbye.

And I'm sorry.

The boy moved his hand as to flip to the next page, but realized there weren't any following it. Where the continuation of the journal should have been were only the tiny jagged edges near the binding where the following papers had been ripped out.

He looked up as if expecting to see another person in the room, but saw only his cramped study with dusty books that hadn't been opened in years shoved into cheap bookcases. Sometimes he felt lonely, and sad, and broken; but that was when he would open up the black leather book and begin once again at the very first page, just as he did now.

September 2nd, 2005,

My name is Dan Howell. I'm not particularly enthused about this assignment, but here goes:

My English teacher, Mrs. Winters, is forcing/encouraging us to write daily in a diary for a year. I don't really see the point of this, or how it relates to English, but as my grades are remaining perilously low I figure I ought to comply.

Firstly, some basic information about me:

I was born on June 11, 1991, so for those of you less accomplished in basic math, I am currently 14. I am in 9th grade, a Pisces, with average grades and a younger brother named Adrian.

I don't really feel like divulging any secrets to the random woman who will be reading my exploits, so I'll try to keep this brief and completely pointless. I despise school, (wow, so rebellious! Never heard of anyone like that before) so this will probably be the bastard child of my pretentiousness, sarcasm, laziness and whining. But let's be honest, that's more fun than doing my homework, so I'll probably be rather attentive to this project.

I actually voluntarily kept a diary when I was six for a span of about three weeks, until I realized that every day Adrian would sneak into my room while I was sleeping, take a picture of it, and then give it to all of my classmates. I think that was the beginning of my trust issues.

He and I have always had some arguments, the main reason being that I was (and still am!) a sassy kid. Not to teachers, or my parents, or really anyone who could actually ruin my prospects of a better life, but to the random people who don't really deserve my wit. For whatever reason, whenever Adrian would say something snarky, I would instantly go into how-can-I-turn-that-joke-on-you mode and say just the most inappropriate things. I wish that I could say that I didn't feel a certain form of pride when he would grimace and tear up, but what can I say, I'm not perfect. Besides, for every time I made him cry, he reacted sevenfold.

In summary, my relationship with Adrian is not perfect. But family is a difficult thing, and my motto is: if at first you don't succeed, give up or your brother will make fun of you until your lips bleed from biting them to keep from crying.

Well, that's all I want to write for today, so farewell, peasants. Enjoy my pretentiousness at a later date!

XOXO -I'm using this IRONICALLY

Dan

September 3, 2014,

Well, as expected, not much has happened during the two dozen or so hours I have avoided this journal, so I suppose I will have to dig into my past to find something to write about.

I am quite obsessed with watching celebrities crash and burn. Seeing others' failures convinces me that even if I am a complete disappointment to all my friends and family, at least I can get a cool 100 grand from selling my story to the tabloids.

Actually, my previous sentence in which I said I was going to "dig into my past" is incorrect, because this is still an interest of mine, but I'm too lazy to erase that and my eraser is all crappy anyway-this pencil has been sitting in a dresser drawer for at least two years, since I was too embarrassed to bring a 'N Sync pencil to school-seriously, Mum, who the hell still likes 'N Sync in 2014? Hell, who even knows who they are? I'm cringing so much right now.

Anyway, Lance Bass's face is on my pencil right now and I'm so bored. School was uneventful, as I've previously stated (this is just the most interesting entry ever, isn't it? I'm so sorry you're reading this) and I've decided that human interaction is the cruelest drug invented. When you first experience it, it's odd, intriguing, like nothing you've ever felt before. So you go back for more, and you become addicted. Soon, even a day without it feels sickening and empty, and that's when you can tell something is wrong. We're conditioned by the media to think that people will always stay with us, that everyone has a 'soulmate' and a 'best friend forever,' but the fact is that people always leave. Either they're sick of you, or you're sick of them, or Death will sneak behind them and steal them away like a conniving seductress.

But yeah, other than that revelation, my day was fine. How about you? I just realized that I can't know what you said, but again, my eraser doesn't work, so... oh well. I'll end it here. Bye!

September 4, 2014,

As I'm sure you can already tell based on my excellent ending yesterday, I am just the most stunningly socially graceful person ever. So it won't surprise you that today, when the girl of my dreams approached me to ask me for my phone number, we had a positively invigorating conversation which ended with a declaration of our mutual love for each other.

Now scribble that out. What really happened is my really annoying crush walked over to me, called me "stupid," and reminded me that I will never do anything with my life, unlike her, because she's going to be a lawyer or something. I'm not sure why, but she doesn't seem to get that I just don't care AT ALL what she has to say! Nope, nope, totally not crying in my room right now and pretending that I have a sore throat.

On the bright side, Mum made me lunch today! It was really bad, but I ate it anyway because she was just so happy that she actually cooked something. Besides, it meant that I could spend my lunch money on a caramel macchiato, so that was nice.

I'm way too tired to deal with this right now, so I'm going to bed.

Dan

The boy smiled faintly, caressing the leather and taking a sip of the room temperature coffee that had been sitting there for at least three hours. His eyelids were half closed from exhaustion, not just from the many hours he had just spent sitting in his beaten up leather chair but from years of poring over the book in dim, artificial lighting.

He had considered burning it, in hopes of regaining some semblance to a normal life; but he knew he could never do it. Too much lay in the messy writing, the places where the pages had been darkened or wrinkled from falling tears, the occasional misuses of punctuation or 'it's.' Without the notebook, he had no guide to help him through life. Without the notebook, he would be alone, truly alone, not just without other people but without himself. And so he clutched it closer to him, and drank a bit more of the coffee, and continued reading.

This is a one shot! It's rather angst-y, so I'm sorry about that, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't review it ;) If you didn't like it, please comment exactly why! It doesn't have to be long, but I would love any semblance of constructive criticism. (Also, in case you don't ship Phan and thus didn't understand this, that is supposed to be Phil reading it... I tried naming him, but it lost all of its vague beauty, so I kept it shrouded in mystery.) I hope you enjoyed it!


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